Giving Up
by Timelessdemon
Summary: Sat in his cell, Brendan thinks over his current and possibly life long situation.


This had been sat gathering dust (or the computerised of dust anyway) for weeks... So here it is, in all it's uncorrected form, lol... enjoy.

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><p>"There you go you've almost done it..." two figures stood in a room, the taller one appearing to encourage the other, child-sized one to try and stand up on his own. "Careful, careful...", the child finally stood all the way up and went to take a step forward, without faltering the taller one one stuck his leg out, sending the child to the ground with a loud 'crash!'<p>

A young brendan stared miserably at the ground as he half-lay, half-sat there, leant against his bedroom wall in a sprawled heap. His still slightly drunk dad loomed over him, laughing in his face. "Ha ha, you're so clumsy brendan! Come on now- get up, come on, come on...".

Brendan bit his lip and slowly tried to get up, the injuries from last night's sparing session not really helping. Brendan finally stood up, half leaning against the wall favouring his left leg. He stared slightly at the floor, worrying that mere eye contact might make his situation worse.

His dad laughed, talking down to him, "Haha there you go, see? i told you could do it!". His Dad put a hand on his shoulder, "Come on then, walk forward... You can do it!".

Brendan knew it was going to happen again, but took a limped step forward anyway. Again, his dad shoved his shoulder so he flew back into the wall, the back of his head connecting painfully with it before he slid down the wall, falling to the ground for what seemed llike the hundreth time.

"Wooah! careful... jeez, why d'your always have ter be such a ditsy clutz yer big girl, come on! Get up!". Brendan just shook his head from side to side and sat there, drawing into himself and crying silently.

His dad gave a disgusted look, "It was just a game bren... jeez, why d'you always have ter act so soft ye bloody puff, ay? Ah fuck it! Am done wit yer". Brendan jolted as he heard a smash of glass near his head he slowly glanced up to see his dad leave the room, shattered glass lay scattered on the floor around him.

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><p>Brendan sat on the side of his bed, he'd always wanted to ignore these events in his life, just move forward and never look back... so much for going forward now. He knew Silas had finally been caught, but the prison guards there was still convinced he was Rae's murderer... Even if Silas was sentenced for the murders... There was still every chance that 'he' would have to serve out the remainder of his time for Rae's murder.<p>

And maybe he deserved it... for all he'd done... lied, stole, hit out, murdered. He sniggered to himself at the last one- technically

But it wasn't his fault... he'd been pushed to act like that, he'd always had to be the tough man. Protect his family, himself and his friends... Friends?

How many friends did he 'really' have... besides Cheryl anyway, Lindsey prehaps... and that was about it. The rest believed he was a murder, or had recieved enough trouble from him to want to stay away him anyway.

Even Ste hadn't come into visit, though... could he hardly blame the guy. Afterall, he'd hit out everytime Ste had tried to get close to him, or do something which he hadn't told him to...

Brendan still couldn't understand why he'd always had to threaten or hit Ste like that, especially after everything he'd gone through to get Ste back from Noah.

And yet it was a difficult habit to break. You see, violence- hitting out, if no one ever tries to stop you, if no one ever says truly says no and gets help... you're indestructable! you're untouchable! YOU'RE in control!- it's like the highest high you could ever get- and you want more of it!

You want to see the pain, the sorrow on your victim's face, see them paralysed with fear one moment and basically have them eating out the palm of your hand the next. Knowing that you're 'finally' the one in control and loving every moment of it.

But... each time, minutes... hours... maybe even days after, you finally feel regret, and hate yourself even more so when you see the damage you inflicted on the one you care about most.

You want to patch it up, say sorry... apologise- it'll never happen again. But you know it will... besides, by then you've become too stotic... too emotionally refined to say what you truly feel. Instead you try to patch them up with material objects . You hate your self for what your doing to the one and only person you've ever loved and yet you can't stop.

Everytime, a white hot flash of rage appears and sweeps you along with it. You want to dig your heels in, you want to say no, cuz everytime you say yes to it... it just gets stronger, to the point where you're no longer the one incharge anymore. Hitting out too soon and regretting too late...

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><p>Brendan sighed annoyedly to himself, bringing his head forward just to let it drop back onto the rock hard pillow of the bed in his 5 star cell.<p>

This place, it takes every happy memory you ever had and leaves you with nothing but pure self-loathing.

He wanted out, one way or the other... and he certainly didn't plan on spending his life ducking and diving, waiting for 'someone' to come visit him and remind him that there were people on the outside who still cared for him.

No, he certainly didn't plan on living out the sentence for a crime he didn't commit...

There was a rope under his bed... it had taken some real sneakiness to get hold of, and he planned to put it to good use before the guards had another suprise inspection and confiscated it.

But first... he glanced up as he heard jeering outside his cell door, coming from the thugs Warren had called in to have Brendan beat up. Brendan gave a quiet (almost sarcastic) laugh, as he slowly stood up from his bed and waited for the thugs to come.

Yes... first, he was gonna take as many of those bastards as he possibly could, down with him...


End file.
